Crayola
by scarlet phlame
Summary: Years after the rise and fall of Slender, the alien parasite which fed off of the colors of the world, the world has become a colorless, bleak place, where its residents know nothing but the colors black and white. ONESHOT.


It was dark at the beginning.

That was honestly how it had always been. Miranda Johnson honestly couldn't remember a single day of her life when there'd been any color in her small, recluse world than black and white and many shades of gray.

Like many of her other peers, though, she could almost vaguely remember a world in which there was something but those two dull colors. But these notions were dismissed as nothing but the dreams of a child.

Even so, Miranda remembered. In her world, there were swirling, ethereal scenes of vision and phantasmagoria, pulchritudinous shades of a color that burned like a fire. A pale color, one that reminded her of peace and tranquility, and even sadness. And then a vague one, one that perhaps might not have existed at all. Hardly there.

In these dreams, she dubbed these colors. The fiery one 'Red', like the name of her closest friend, who had a burning personality like the tongues of a flame. The pale one 'Blue', after that one word for an emotion which is both tranquil and sad. And the one that was barely there, 'Yellow', like the name of her grandmother who had fallen ill with a degenerative disease and didn't even remember her own name.

She tangled her hands through her grayish black hair. It was one of the most popular colors this season, but she didn't like it. Her world seemed simply so... dead.

She picked up her charcoal pencil, then the white one and started to draw. She drew of that one thing she'd seen in her dreams. A rainbow.

There had been legends of a world of color before this land. Something had happened to a world filled with color. She wondered what could happen to turn such a place of such wonder and life into such a dark, gloomy place.

Miranda hid the picture in her folder in her black backpack once she'd gotten home. She didn't want her parents to see it; surely such fantasies about rainbows and color were some sort of child's play.

She forgot about the picture until about five hours later, when her mother was digging through her backpack, looking for a pencil to use to sign a contract. She pulled out the drawing and waggled a finger at the picture, disapprovingly.

"I thought I told you to stop thinking about these things," she said. "I'll have to call your father."

The rest happened in a blur. My dad came in about two hours later. He always works late. My mom showed him the picture. We had a long talk.

"You do realize there's no such thing as rainbows, right?" my dad speculates.

"Yeah," I say simply, inwardly scoffing. There has to be something more to this world than just two bleak colors. Assuming otherwise is just small-minded.

Completely oblivious to my thoughts, my parents bulldoze on.

"Look outside, sweetheart," my mother says. "Look. There's nothing out there. You could meander to the farthest corner of this world and find absolutely nothing."

"I know," I lie. "I don't think there are any rainbows. I don't know why I drew it. It was just a dare. I thought it might be funny."

She smiles. "Oh, sweetheart."

My mom saunters off. But my dad stays. He hands me something.

"I used to think like that when I was your age," he tells me. "My mom thought it was silly, too. But my dad... your granddad... he found this, washed up ashore of the White Sea. I thought you might want it."

He presses it into my hand and exits. I look down into my hands.

He's put this thing into my hand. It's sort of like the pencils we have at home. Except this one is made up of three colors. Red, blue, and yellow. Red on the tip, blue in the middle, and yellow at the end.

I stare at the colors for a long time. Then I smile.

Crayola. That's the name that's written on the end of the pencil. That's my grandfather's name.

When I'm rich and famous for bringing color to the world, that's what I'll call myself. Miranda Crayola Johnson.

* * *

_**Okay, let me explain. This is our world, after Slender guy invades it. Slender feeds off of color, which was why the world is just black and white. Sometime, someone killed him. The world was repopulated but with no color. **_

_**That's all. R&R if you enjoyed the story!**_


End file.
